Stories from the trenches, by a fictional hiring partner at a large law firm in a major city.

Wednesday, April 07, 2004

It's 10:15, and I'm in the office. I thought these days ended when I signed the partnership agreement. Of course, I never read the partnership agreement. They only gave us the last page to sign, and the rest of it... who knows what it says. But it's not like anyone's not going to sign. In any event, if you've been reading for a little while, you know that Wednesday is usually the day I take off early and play a round of golf. Which I almost did today. But after a beautiful shot on hole 13, right on the fairway (my Callaway clubs were the best $3000 I ever spent), my cell phone rang. I should have just let it go to voice mail, but I picked up. It was my favorite client, letting me know he'd just heard back about a deal he's trying to push through, and wanting to know if I could review some documents for him by the morning. "Of course, that's what I'm here for," I said. It's easy to forget sometimes that this is a service industry. So I called the office and got an associate on it. This one specific guy, who does fine work but I just don't like him personally. So whenever I get work like this I want to delegate, he's the first one I think of. Anything to make his life less pleasant. So I figured I could finish my round, swing by the office on my way home to check on stuff, and be home in time to watch TV on the couch while my wife does the laundry. I got back to the office around 6:30, and realized this was a bigger project than I thought. So I had to put in a few hours. I'm on my way out now; the only good thing to come out of this is that my associate will probably be here all night. "I had dinner plans with some friends," he said. Who's he kidding? He's a fourth-year. He's surely lost all his friends by now.